Violet's Visit
by Sirhith
Summary: Ron is forced to change his identity when he is blamed for a crime he didn't commit.
1. The Accusation, aka The Plan

Violet's Visit 

By: Sirhith

_Rating: G_

_Summary: Ron is forced to change his identity when he is blamed for a crime he didn't commit. _

DISCLAIMER Okay, just so we are clear on the subject, I did not make up Harry Potter. Harry Potter and all related characters, objects, etc. etc. belong to Warner Bros. and J.K. Rowling… NOT ME. This story is just based on and inspired by the five Harry Potter books currently in print. Thank you for your time.

A.N. Sorry if this story is a little off character. Thanks again to RonWGirl for correcting me on that Zonko's mistake!

CHAPTER I: The Accusation, a.k.a. The Plan

"Come on Harry! Hurry up!" Ron Weasley shouted to his friend down the corridor. Ron usually didn't hurry for classes himself, but Dean Thomas had agreed to bring the newest issue of _Quidditch Monthly_ to Charms class.

"Coming!" Harry yelled back. Soon, they were outside Professor Flitwick's classroom. When they got inside, they chose two empty seats near their best friend, Hermione Granger. She sat with her hands folded, a piece of parchment and a quill out ready to take notes.

"Where were you two? I've been here for ten minutes." This was typical Hermione. An overachiever, you could always find her bent over a four-foot piece of parchment, scribbling madly, or with her nose in a book. At that moment, Professor Flitwick gently rapped his wand on the edge of his desk. He was a small wizard, and his voice was high-pitched and squeaked frequently.

"Class is in session," he squeaked, nearly toppling off his stack of books that he used for a chair. "Today we will be reviewing the wand motions for _Frizza Gooberandum_, the shrinking spell. Remember: counterclockwise circle, then flick to the right. We'll work more on the annunciation tomorrow. Off you go, then."

Hermione was already scribbling away, drawing a complex diagram of the wand motions for the spell. Harry and Ron both reached into their bags for their wands, and began practicing together.

"Hey Ron!" Dean called across the room. He waved a copy of _Quidditch Monthly. _Ron shot towards his friend, and soon they were comparing ideas of who was going to win the Quidditch World Cup that year. Hermione scoffed, then began practicing the wand movements swiftly and accurately. Harry smiled, and hurried over to Ron.

Later, as the three friends were heading to lunch in the Great Hall, they smelled something disgusting.

"Eww," Ron groaned, holding his nose. "What is that?" Hermione pressed her bag against her face. Harry did the same. They turned around and headed back toward the Transfiguration classroom, where they could find a different, less smelly route.

They did, and the three of them slid onto one of the benches at the Gryffindor table. Hermione whipped out a copy of _Magical Me, _written by one of their previous Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Honestly, how many times do you think she's read that thing?" Ron was not a particular fan of Lockhart, but ever since their second year both he and Harry had been convinced that Hermione fancied him.

"Too many," Harry replied, grinning. He thought he heard Hermione mumble something about "thirty four" as she reached for her glass, but he wasn't sure. Just then, Dean showed up, and the three wizards were once again involved in a heated discussion about Quidditch.

Ron pulled out his schedule and swore under his breath. "I've heard Snape's in a really foul mood today. Something about a Sleeping Drought spilled all over the dungeons. The class conked out in the middle of his lecture."

Harry smiled. Everyone hated Professor Severus Snape, and in turn the teacher favored only those in his own house—Slytherin. He criticized everyone else.

However, before Harry, Ron, and Hermione got to the dungeons, Professor McGonagall (head of Gryffindor house and Transfiguration teacher) came running toward them.

"Aha!" she breathed heavily, her hands on her knees. "I've got you. What's that on your shoe, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron glanced down at his red sneaker, his sock poking out of the toe. Some sort of label was stuck to the sole. When he ripped it off, he found that it was a label from a box of

**Dungbombs: Authentic Dung-like odor! **

"But Professor, you don't think I let these off in the corridor by the Charms room…" Ron began.

"I'm sorry, Weasley, but I've found you with the evidence. Come with me."

"But I've got Potions…"

"I'm sure Mr. Potter and Miss Granger will inform Professor Snape of your absence." She gestured toward Harry and Hermione, who nodded in agreement.

"But I…"

"That's enough but's, Mr. Weasley. We're going to see Professor Dumbledore."

"Dumble…dore?" Ron stammered.

"Harry, there's nothing we can do," Hermione said gently, after seeing Harry follow Ron with his eyes up the stairs. "You know I don't think Ron would do something like this, but the label was on his shoe. Come on, we'll be late if we don't hurry." The two friends hurried down the musty dungeon steps. They knew how Snape was if they were late.

After Herbology, their last class of the day, Hermione and Harry rushed up to the Gryffindor common room to hear from Ron. He was slumped over in one of the overstuffed armchairs in front of the empty fireplace. His eyes were fixed on the gray ashes.

"They took me off the team… and I've got a week's detention," he whispered.

"What!?!" Harry fumed. "They can't do that, I'm going to talk to McGonagall right now, they can't do this…"

"Harry's right, Ron. We know you didn't do it, and that's just not right. Professor McGonagall can't prove it was you." Hermione added, flopping into the empty armchair across from Ron's.

"But the label was on my shoe," Ron groaned. "And our first game of the year is next week, what are we going to do, we're going to lose, we can't get a sub, and we're playing Slytherin…"

"Wait a minute…" Hermione said thoughtfully. I saw something in the _Magical Gifts for All Occasions_ catalogue. There's a disguise kit, we could pull our money together and get it, and then make you look like someone else, Ron."

"That just might work," Harry agreed. "Look, there's a Hogsmeade trip next weekend. Do you think they'd have the kit in one of the shops?"

"I'm almost sure they would," Hermione answered. "It's all settled, then. You'll be in that Quidditch game, Ron!"

The following Saturday after breakfast in the Great Hall, Harry and Ron went to get their money from their dormitory. Hermione went to hers, and brought a small purse into the Gryffindor common room, jingling with coins.

"There," she said after the three friends had counted out 10 Galleons, 7 Sickles, and 12 Knuts between them. "That should be just enough."

They went out into the corridor, and then continued downstairs to the entrance hall where Filch was checking names off a list. Harry, Ron, and Hermione went though the massive oak doors, and continued walking until they came to a dirt path that led into Hogsmeade.

"I believe they'll have the disguise kit in Zonko's," Hermione said.

"I love that place," Ron told Hermione and Harry. "Remember those nose-biting teacups, Harry?"

"Do I ever," Harry grinned. "There it is."

When the three sorcerers got inside, they immediately noticed _Moody Mugwump's Magical Disguise Kit _sitting on a nearby shelf. Ron picked it up and opened the leather lid.

"Apparently Moody thought everyone would want witch disguises," Ron groaned. Harry moved to his side and winced.

"Oh, stop it, you two!" Hermione scolded. "We witches aren't _that _ugly." She moved to Harry's shoulder to get a peek at the kit's contents. She saw what they meant.

Inside the leather case was a variety of wigs: curly blonde ones, short brown ones, even one that was dyed pink. Ron lifted off the wig box to reveal the bottom of the kit lined with cosmetics.

"_Magical Hair Curler_," Harry read off a small glass jar. "I wonder how it works." He unscrewed the lid. Instantly some silvery powder floated out and stuck in Ron's hair. After the powder vanished, Ron was left with a curly mop of red hair.

"That's how," Harry groaned to himself. "Sorry Ron," he apologized, trying not to laugh out loud.

"It's not funny," Ron pouted, but he couldn't keep a straight face all the same.

"Come on, we've got to get this paid for and get it back the common room," Hermione reminded them, gently closing the lid of the kit.

"**WHAT??**" Ron protested. "I can't go around like that in public, I'll get laughed at…"

"It's a _disguise _kit, Ron," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "No one will know it's you. Besides, I think people will be more convinced if you're a girl."

"Alright, then," Ron agreed reluctantly. "Just make sure I _really _don't look like me."

Back in the common room that night, Hermione brought the kit down from her dormitory and sat down in an armchair by the fireplace. Harry and Ron were at a nearby table, playing Wizard's Chess.

"Okay, Ron," she whispered, opening the lid. "We're ready."

"Why are you whispering?" Ron shouted back. "There's no one here except the three of us!"

"Well, I suppose you're right," the young witch agreed, now talking in a normal tone. "But let's hurry, we don't want Professor McGonagall to find out what we're up to."

"Gee, I've always wanted to be a witch," Ron groaned for the second time that day.

"Quit pouting, Ron," Harry told him. "This might be entertaining!"

"Shut up, Harry." Ron threw a pillow at him, grinning.

"Ron, would you rather be a blond witch or a pink-haired witch?" Hermione asked, holding up two of the wigs in the kit.

"Er, blond I suppose,"

"Eye color?"

"Eye color!?"

"There are colored contacts here in the kit."

"No thanks, I'll keep my brown ones!" Ron covered his eyes with his hands, nervous that Hermione would cast a spell to change them blue.

"Fine, brown it is. But what will we do about your blush color…"

"No way, wigs are as far as I go!" Ron protested. "I am not wearing some girly pink stuff on my face!"

"Personally, I prefer the red," Harry suggested, pointing to one of the small glass jars in the kit.

"I told you before, Harry," Ron said, reaching for a second pillow. "Shut up."

By the following day, Harry and Hermione had secretly decided that Ron was going to be a blond witch with pink blush and blue eye shadow. He would be a witch from Scotland who would be staying for a few weeks until her parents could find her a different school. She had played Quidditch frequently, and would be willing to fill in for Ron during the game.

Ron would be known as Violet Langford.

A.N. Like it? Knew you would. ;) On to Chapter 2, then.


	2. The Disguise

CHAPTER II: The Disguise

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Ron asked skeptically as Hermione pinned the blond wig onto his head. They were in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"Positive," Hermione assured him. "I've already told Professor McGonagall that you're one of my friends, she knows you're coming."

"Well, what will McGonagall say when I don't show up and Violet does?"

"I've worked that out," Harry said from the corner where he was selecting the right jar of blush from the kit. "I've told McGonagall that there was an emergency at your house, and you're going to stay there for a week until it's worked out."

"Are you sure she's going to swallow that? OW! Honestly, Hermione, do you really need to jam the pin into my scalp?" Ron rubbed his head.

"I don't know," Hermione was skeptical. "I thought it was a little farfetched myself, but it's the only plan we've got."

"Well why will Ginny still be here?" Ron asked quizzically.

"We don't have time to work that out," Harry told him. "You'll only be Violet until the game's over, then we'll tell McGonagall everything's fine at your place and you're back."

"Okay, Ron, now hold still while I put this blush on you…"

It was the morning of the first Quidditch match of the season. Harry was trying to coax Ron into his scarlet robes in the locker room.

"No way am I doing this," Ron pulled the robe on over his sweater and jeans. "McGonagall will know it's me. And what about Dumbledore? I heard he's coming to watch. What'll I do? This is dumb, how is this going to work? It's not going to work, that's why, I…"

"Ron, it's all right," Harry assured his best friend. "Like I said before, it's only one game. When you're back in the locker room you can take off your disguise."

"Harry, Violet, come on, the game's starting!" Angelina, one of the Gryffindor Chasers and captain of the team ushered Harry and Ron onto the Quidditch field. Harry grabbed hold of his Firebolt, and Ron got a handle on one of the school brooms, a Shooting Star.

"As usual, I want a nice clean game from _everyone_, both teams alike," Madam Hooch instructed. "One…. Two… Three!" she blew a short blast on her silver whistle. The Slytherin team in their bottle-green robes soared into the air, directly behind the Gryffindor team in their red ones. Ron was circling the goal posts. Meanwhile, Hermione peered through a pair of Omnioculars at Harry up in the sapphire sky.

"Oh, I hope Harry finds that Snitch soon," she murmured to herself. "This game shouldn't last any longer than it has to."

Up above the crowd, Ron was feeling nervous. _What do I do, what do I do, what do I do, _he repeated over and over in his mind. _What if the wig falls off? _He worried. _Maybe I _should_ have let Hermione pin it to my scalp…_

Just then, one of the Slytherin Beaters launched a Bludger toward Ron. He swerved to the left as he felt the Quaffle whistle past his right ear into the goal. The crowd groaned. Lee Jordan added his commentary.

"And, Slytherin scores! Oh no, those slimy brutes, why they…"

"JORDAN!"

Professor McGonagall was always there to keep Lee in line.

"Uh, sorry Professor. But if you had seen what they did… Ah well. Anyways, Slytherin's winning, 10 to 0."

Ron was trying his best to look feminine and keep Slytherin away from the goal posts at the same time. He wasn't doing such a good job. Harry zoomed by with some encouragement.

"Keep it up, I've almost got the Snitch!"

Ron was sweating like crazy. He just had to hold out for a few more minutes. Just then a Bludger rocketed past, and Harry's elbow knocked the wig off of Ron's head. The crowd fell silent. Ron glanced down as the blond wig floated down to the ground. His cheeks flushed redder than his hair. The players were suspended in midair as Madam Hooch stepped out onto the field.

"This concludes today's Quidditch match. And, after he is changed, will Ronald "Violet" Weasley please report to the Headmaster's office. That is all," the stands quickly emptied. Ron even heard sneers of, "Nice going, Weasel!" from Malfoy and his cronies.

In the locker room, no one would talk to Ron, except for Harry.

"It's all right," his best friend tried to comfort him. "Something was bound to happen sooner or later. It wasn't your fault." Ron didn't respond. "Well, I suppose you should… get up to Dumbledore's office soon." Harry was beginning to feel stupid; it was like talking to a wall.

"Okay," Ron said, barely above a whisper. He pulled his crimson robe off over his head and walked back up toward the castle. Professor McGonagall was waiting for him inside the large oak doors.

"It's wonderful to see you Weasley," she began softly. "But on second thought, maybe 'wonderful' isn't the most appropriate word… Never mind. Professor Dumbledore is expecting you, so let's not dawdle."

"I would if I had a choice," Ron muttered under his breath.

"What was that, Weasley?"

"Um… nothing, Professor,"

They continued down the winding corridor and up the marble stairs until the two happened upon the entrance to the Headmaster's office on the second floor, guarded heavily by a stone gargoyle.

"Pumpkin pasty," the Transfiguration teacher announced. Immediately, the gargoyle came to life, jumped aside, and gave entrance to a winding staircase. Ron entered nervously with Professor McGonagall at his side as the stairs began to rotate.

Soon, Ron was directly outside Dumbledore's office. With a shaky hand, Ron tapped a few times on the door.

A.N. Suspenseful, huh? On to Chapter 3!


	3. The Meeting with Dumbledore

CHAPTER III: The Meeting with Dumbledore

"You may enter," came a voice from inside. Ron pushed open the door to reveal the Headmaster of Hogwarts: Albus Dumbledore. His bright blue eyes seemed to twinkle in the candlelight, and Ron knew he was not in trouble.

"That is all, Minerva," the kindly wizard gestured toward Professor McGonagall. "Thank you," and with that, the head of Gryffindor house had disappeared.

"I know what you asked me here for, Professor," Ron began slowly.

"Ah, I am sure that you do, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore answered back. "Now, what's this about you wearing some sort of wig at the Quidditch game this morning?"

"Well you see, Sir," Ron began. Then he was off, telling all about the trip to Hogsmeade, and pulling their money together so Ron could play in the Quidditch match. Even about how they had snuck into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom to determine Ron's eye and hair color. After the Weasley boy finished, he hung his head in shame.

"Sir, I'm sorry, I… I had to do it."

Dumbledore's blue eyes sparkled. Then he looked down at the floor. "Mr. Weasley, in all my years of teaching I've come to realize that sometimes one will do something not for themselves, but for their friends." The Headmaster looked up. "That, my boy, is the meaning of true friendship. Not to mention why I have enjoyed watching you, Mr. Potter, and Miss Granger grow up together these past few years.

"And, I called you up here to my office to tell you that your detention is canceled for the rest of the week, and you are back on the Quidditch team."

"Sir, you don't mean… thank you, Sir, but… why, Sir?" Ron stumbled over his words.

"A certain Fred and George Weasley have confessed that they were the ones who set off those Dungbombs in the Transfiguration corridor. They couldn't stand seeing you get all the credit for one of their schemes." The wizard peered over his half-moon spectacles at Ron as his bright blue eyes danced. He winked. "Now, I suggest you go get some sleep. I expect you to be in front of those goalposts in tomorrow's makeup match."

"I will be, Sir," Ron felt like hugging the old wizard in forest green robes. "Can I.." the Weasley boy gestured toward the door.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore laughed. "Now, go have some fun. I'm sure Miss Granger and Mr. Potter are eager to see you."

"Well, how was it?"

Harry and Hermione were waiting right outside Dumbledore's office, ready to hear exactly what had happened.

"I'm back on the team!" Ron exclaimed. "Dumbledore said Fred and George did it, and they finally 'fessed up when they found out I got the blame!"

"That's great, Ron!" Hermione hugged him. Suddenly, she backed away as though she had hugged a porcupine instead. She cleared her throat and acted as though such an event had never occurred.

All Harry could do was pat Ron on the back. "I knew you didn't do it. Now come on, let's go back to the common room and celebrate. But, uh.. Ron?"

"Yeah Harry?"

"Do us all a favor and wipe off that blush."

"Harry?"

"What is it, Ron?"

"Shut up."

A.N. Ta da!! Like it? Great. Now there's only one more thing left to do… review it! ;)


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